#in a bowler hat just staring at me!

[chiropterancreed]

you guys ever have dreams about ghosts and then look up the deceased person on findagrave.com and actually find them? or is that just me?

[bacchusbasil]

Ficlet- Stan Loses his Memory (Shapes and Pines AU)

“Oh my gosh, Grunkle Stan you did it!” Mabel excitedly exclaimed as she placed the fez upon the kneeling man’s head.

Ford, Dipper, and Tad lingered behind, sober looks on their faces. Ford rubs his arm as a tear wells up in Tad’s eye.

“Oh uh... Hey there… Kiddo,” Stan hesitantly greets, gently removing Mabel’s arms from his shoulders. “What’s your name?”

Mabel laughs nervously. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?”

Dipper covers his mouth silently, joining next to his sister.

The man in the trench coat touched the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle and looked around. “Heh… who ya talkin’ to?” 

Tad floats up to Stan’s face, reaching for his chin. “C’mon, Mack! You know us! Don’t ya remember me? Your husband-for-tax-purposes?”

The blue being’s supposed husband just stares blankly. Tad grabs him by the collar. “You can’t just forget our anniversary that easily! C’mon, does twenty years of commitment mean nothing to you?!”

Stan backs away from the two, who now have tears flowing over their faces, and Dipper grabs each by the shoulders to pull them away.

Ford leans over to comfort Mabel. “We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill. It’s all gone.”

The older man glances up at his brother. “Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world.”

Ford moves closer to Stan, placing his arms on either shoulder. “He saved me.”

The amnesiac blinked unrecognizingly as Ford teared up. “You’re our hero, Stanley.” His voice cracks. He embraces his brother for the first time in forty years.

Tad reaches for Mabel’s hand, who takes it and pulls him close like a teddy bear. The square cries into her sweater sleeve and she cries into his bowler hat, Dipper putting a hand on her shoulder and lowering his cap.

The family took a solemn moment to mourn.

(Shapes and Pines belongs to @void-dude )

[directdogman]

Ensnared (A Dialtown short story)

A warm haze emanated from the lush, leafy membrane that surrounded a distinctive balcony in Washington, DC, the light barely permeating the dim stillness of yet another cool morning. Peering towards this rising gleam sat a man in a pale damson suit, the distant glint barely reflected on the surface of his metallic face.

The pervasive hush was cut short by a doorway opening behind the seated man, and from the doorway, a lean man wearing a worn bowler hat and a matching brown plaid suit emerged. The seated man didn't avert his gaze from the horizon, but shifted his posture, anticipating a conversation would unfold. The man in the bowler hat paced hesitantly towards his seated accomplice.

"Mornin', Cal." the man in the bowler hat murmured, his hushed voice almost a whisper, "You get much sleep?" "I got enough." Crown replied tersely. The man in the plaid suit remained silent for a moment, before fracturing the silence with another question. "You spoken to Marla yet?" he asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly. The seated man replied by finally turning to face his partner, raising the mug of coffee in his hand with a warm, but muted enthusiasm.

"The papers are talking about Hoover again." the man in the bowler hat added, his glance shifting towards the ground. The seated man flicked his left hand dismissively. "Let 'em talk!" he scoffed, "The man's yesterday's news. Folks'll move on once there's something else for 'em to talk about!" The man in the hat nodded hesitantly and another prolonged silence followed suit. Crown chuckled to himself, his gaze averted forward yet again.

"Y'know, Milt... It's the funniest thing." the metallic man stated, "I came out here not twenty minutes ago and while I was having my morning coffee, I noticed the damndest thing on this very balcony." Milt's eyes shifted to his collaborator, his interest now piqued. Crown continued. "The tiniest fly I think I've ever seen in my life - caught in a little spider web, over on those railings." he said, raising his gauntlet to point to the metallic bars separating their balcony from the rest of the world. "No spider in sight, naturally. Good news for the fly, perhaps." Crown added. "Must've been off doing other things, y'know?" Milt replied, a smile barely creeping across the corners of his lips, "Doing whatever spiders get up to when we're not sitting around watching 'em, I guess." Crown leaned forward towards the balcony, as if he hadn't heard Milt's reply.

"So, naturally, I inched closer and extended my hand, so I could sever the threads and save the fly from its predicament!" Crown stated, enthusiasm seeping into his tone yet again. He paused for a moment following this and turned his head to meet Milt's gaze for a second time. "But, as I got a closer look, I realized that the fly wasn't just CAUGHT in the web..." Crown added, his metallic hand clenching with each stressed word, "But, ENSNARED by it." Milt's left eye tightened, curious to see where his partner was going with his tale.

"Its body COMPLETELY bound in minute silk threads..." Crown then stated, staring back over at the web. "And then it dawned on me." he added, "Even IF I were to break the threads connecting the fly to the web, relinquishing it from the spider's immediate grasp, well..." Crown turned his head, his dial locking with Milt's eyes for another solitary moment.

"The fly was still bound from head to toe, y'know?" he stated, his voice almost cracking. A barely distinguishable twinge of concern flashed across Milt's face, as Crown turned again to look at the web. "I mean, even IF the fly wasn't fixed to the web itself, it couldn't fly, couldn't move and surely once the spider came back..." Crown stated, his voice now trailing off, "Well, the fly was a goner."

"And again, this was the tiniest fly I reckon I've ever seen!" Crown boasted, enthusiasm returning to his tone, as his metallic hand jolted forward. "There was absolutely no way I could've broken the fine threads covering its body without harming and possibly dismembering the fly." he added, turning back to face Milt, a hint of regret in his tone. Crown noticed Milt's eyes quickly avert to his metallic hand. "Even WITH my organic hand." he hastily corrected. Milt nodded silently, the bottom of his lips pursed.

"I could observe its predicament, even delay the inevitable..." Crown murmured, "But no single movement I could make was deft enough, delicate enough to free the fly without subjecting it to an equally gruesome fate." Crown's tone shifted, as if describing witnessing an event of abject unfairness.

"For that moment, we were interconnected!" the metallic man proclaimed, "Two beings separated TOTALLY and UTTERLY by a vast expanse of scale..." Crown's gaze shifted towards the floor dejectedly, his hunched neck communicating that his mindset was now one of bargaining. "Even IF I'd sat patiently and waited for the spider to come back, crushed it in my hand..." Crown added, his metallic hand tensing once again, "It wouldn't have changed the outcome one iota." Crown's tone hushed.

"The fly was dead the moment it entered the web." he murmured, concern now visibly plastered across his partner's face. "In that moment, my strength made me powerless to change ANYTHING for the fly." the seated man stated, as his metallic hand thrusted incredulously. "I couldn't do a THING." Crown enunciated. "Despite the sheer difference in our current situations..." the seated man shared, his posture shifting backwards into a pensive lean, "The phenomenal discrepancy in our respective circumstances..." Crown trailed off and a moment of hushed stillness followed. "We were BOTH trapped..." he mused, "Equally bound by possibility." Milt winced, sensing inner turmoil within his comrade. "And then..." Crown added, his shoulders arching as he shifted in his seat, "That got me thinking..." The metallic man turned to face his accomplice.

"Presuming he exists, of course..." Crown pondered, his voice now hushed and uncertain, "I wonder if God sees all of us the same way." Milt's grimace hardened as his eyes shifted towards the fine white residue on the table next to his partner.

"Cal..." Milt murmured, his right hand now planted on the back of his neck, "You've really gotta lay off of that stuff."

[suzukiblu]

👉👈 do you have any more of the dubcon ( ;3c dubKON lol) tim//kon thing with the pining kon?

. . . I actually am not even sure what fic you're referencing so maaaaaybe I have written too many fics, lol.

But like, here's an excerpt from something that at least fits that definition?

Superboy fucking hates Gotham.

Well, not necessarily Gotham, but definitely the Riddler and probably Poison Ivy and, like . . . whoever the fuck else decided to set up a goddamn murder-box puzzle room and lock him in it with a drugged-out-of-his-mind Robin and the worst set of instructions ever.

And especially he hates the fact that apparently the whole damn mess was fucking livestreamed.

"This sucks," he mutters under his breath. Robin stares at him from the other side of the briefing table in the middle of the Batcave, because of course Superboy's first time in the Batcave would only happen because he'd fucked up. Like–of course it would.

"I sexually assaulted you in a supervillain deathtrap in front of the entire internet," Robin says very, very carefully. "And we only survived the experience because said deathtrap had faulty wiring. And that . . . 'sucks'?"

"I mean, very much so, yes," Superboy says. Honestly he's more annoyed about the deathtrap than anything else. Like, he tried really hard to solve that stupid puzzle of Riddler's and it's really annoying that he apparently got it wrong. Which–okay, he was pretty distracted at the time because drugged-up Robin had refused to settle for a handy and had basically bullied him into going down on him, but still. That asshole Riddler and his lame-ass bowler hat had been very fucking clear about how said drugs weren't gonna wear off without Robin getting off and how they'd had very limited time to solve his stupid puzzle in, so Superboy had just kinda tried to . . . multitask it, basically. He'd let out-of-his-mind Robin shove him down and fuck his mouth and just kept his hands on the floor so he could use his TTK a little easier and tried to solve the stupid puzzle with it, just in case Robin wasn't gonna snap out of it fast enough.

It'd very literally been a puzzle, for whatever reason–like one of those weird abstract-looking 3D ones–and probably would've been a lot easier to figure out if he'd actually been able to see it as opposed to having to rely on his TTK feeling it out while the whole thing was all wired up to the table on the opposite side of the deathtrap room, but apparently it hadn't even fucking mattered anyway because of whatever that one fucked up bit in the wiring had been. So like . . . Superboy basically violated a guy he barely knows and already had weird feelings about for no fucking reason whatsoever.

So yeah. This definitely sucks.

"I called you a whore," Robin says, his face absolutely expressionless. Superboy makes a face at him more to be contrary than anything else. "Multiple times. You asked me to stop yanking your hair so hard and I called you a mouthy bitch. And then I yanked your hair harder."

"I mean, I know, I was there," Superboy says, raising an eyebrow at him. And also, like, those are accurate assessments of his character, so . . .

"I made you get down on your knees and shoved my dick in your mouth," Robin stresses, his jaw going tight. "Which was livestreamed and is now on the internet. Where it will never go away. Ever. And anyone who feels like it can just go and google it."

"They probably shouldn't, I'm assuming that'd count as underage porn," Superboy says with a shrug. "At least, I'm not eighteen yet, dunno about you. Actually I'm like . . . two, max. Probably not even that. Although I dunno, I was sixteen-ish when I got out of Cadmus, maybe I do count as eighteen by now? Technically?"

Robin gets up and goes over to the trash can by the computer and throws up in it. Superboy . . . blinks.

"Uh," he says. "You okay, man?"

"No," Robin says. Then he throws up in the trash can again.

Awkward, Superboy thinks, trying not to wince.

[makriiii]

Caught XVII (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

Word count: 4k

Authors note: My powers been out so I finally had an excuse to ponder my next move in the series (spoiler!? you guys are IN for it this chapter 😈) I'm also of course, sorry as always for disappearing for months again!

Warnings: 18+, guns, cussing, alcohol, SA.

♡

Caught XVII

"You're too good to me!" You chirp, more than elated with the man you found in front of you. "Let me pay for our drinks this time."

"Oh, bosh." He reached up to adjust the bowler hat you remembered so fondly atop his head. "I got nothin' else to spend it on!"

"Well, I owe ya one anyway." You remark reluctantly, undelighted with his stubbornness.

"That blouse suits ya' well y/n." He spins a finger around, pointing at his wife's shirt that you had on. "I'm glad you're gettin' good use of 'em."

"I still owe you for that too, I reckon." You chuckle, all his favors for you made you feel bad without reciprocating.

"You're puttin' them to use. That's all you gotta do for me."

The generosity of this man baffled you. It weighed on your conscience, your life's path was not one deserving of the kindness he bestowed.

You patted his hand as a thanks. "Nevertheless. If there's anything you ever need, David."

He gave you a grin, shaking his head. "Just accept my drinks and we're square."

"I'dve never expected to have found you in Rhodes, David." You continue, watching Arthur who had positioned himself a few seats away from you and David. "What brings you to this dusty little town anyway?"

"Well, I'll tell ya what-" Slapping one hand on the bar and a head cocked back, the liquid in the glass vanished. "I'm gon' see how Saint Denis treats me. Just a pit stop for now."

David had clearly been here for a while already, his pockets loose and not a worry too light. His warm, bubbly attitude felt comforting. A man who didn't care about your past.

Arthur sat a few seats down, seemingly fine on his own, but his glares every so often made it obvious he believed you were unworthy of a gifted meal.

"Yeah?" You chuckle, "From my own experience, its high fliers too big for their britches and the ones that knock you upside the head for the few rocks you got in your pocket."

"Psh.. they wouldn't mess with me, ya know." He jests before grabbing another glass, though he seemed to have noticed Arthurs occasional glare which he promptly searched you for any explanation. "You know that man?"

"Don't mind him, he's had a long day." You stared back at Arthur while you spoke, eating his food so uptight.

As unexpected as it was, David started laughing. A small chuckle that grew.

You cocked a brow, unsure if it was the alcohol or just something you had said.

"He somethin to ya?" He asked with a grin, motioning for another drink.

His question felt like it squeezed the air out of you.

You felt stuck. Even with every feeling you felt for that man, they amalgamated into something you couldn't articulate.

David sat calmly, your aversion to your own feelings he seemed to sympathize with.

"I don't know."

David's eyes fixed on yours and with just a soft nod, you felt at ease. That alone was enough for him to understand.

He offered you the next drink and you didn't need any extra encouragement.

"I feel a lot of different ways about that man right now." You stared at the empty shot in front of you, disregarding the fresh dinner on your plate. "And I'm not so sure what of its right and wrong anymore."

David swirled his drink, his usual demeanor hazed with a soft and contemplative veneer.

"He's wronged me more times than I can count and yet I still find his presence appealing."

"Another ladies offering him a night." He blurted suddenly.

Your eyes shot over to Arthur, though one still alone upon a quick inventory.

David shook his head and started up with that chuckle again.

"You'll be the end of me, David, right in this chair here." You heaved a sigh, covering your face with your hand.

"I reckon you could deny it for the rest of your days, you'd also come to regret it as long too."

His words steamed over you once more, lingering and burning a hole inside you.

Oh, how obvious it was now.

You shoveled a few bites into your mouth, his reasoning sorting out the mess of your feelings.

"It's not often ya find one like that, y/n." David laments, "you feel right 'round him, don't ya?"

"More than I should, I suppose."

Despite your sentences growing short, you only filled with a sense of longing. Your glances over to Arthur becoming brief and timid.

"I have a firm reason to believe it's not reciprocal." You murmured. Talking about this aloud and with Arthur so close? Perhaps you were about to find out from his own appearance.

He hummed a familiar tune before taking one last swig of his drink. "He's waiting for you." He pats your shoulder before popping himself out of his chair, stretching on his way out.

You hesitated before standing up to send David on his way, surprised he was leaving so soon.

"I'd do anythin' to tell my wife what I feel for her once more." He whispers as he embraces you. "You owe me after all. Don't lose yourself on silly worries and wind up like me."

He was right, whether fortunately or not. That you couldn't deny.

"Thank you, David." The unfamiliar feel of your lip quivering frightened you, tears welling up threatened further punishment. "I'll do my best for you.

"I know you will, y/n." He smiled, on his way for what he desired in Saint Denis.

You watched as he walked out of the saloon, still contemplating the conversation that had just transpired. The one man not predestined to despise you for being an O'Driscoll- or a traitorous Van Der Linde member leaving you to yourself once more.

A large hand on your shoulder startled you out of somber thought, bringing you back to the present predicament.

"You gon' finish that food?" Arthur questions behind you, finally deciding to waltz up to you.

"You can have it." You offer, turning back to sit with him. You didn't feel like eating anymore.

He stood over you, deciding on your words before walking to sit down with you. "Ya sure?"

You simply nodded. Staring down at the dirty floor boards as you collected yourself. No way were you gonna let him see you shed a tear.

"Who was that man, anyway?"

Clearing your throat, you swallowed the lump in your throat, assuring that today was not the day to let loose. "Good buddy of mine."

Arthur seemed to pick up on whatever it was you were feeling. If not due to your unusually quiet demeanor then perhaps he'd noticed the shake in your voice.

"Not your fabled husband then?" He inquired, his typical smirk adorning his lips.

The age old fib you had tried to sell him he still brought up every so often, ruling out the ability to be in the doldrums.

You scoff with a growing smile, "I'm afraid he's not annoying enough, Mister Callahan."

That, he had not expected. A soft chuckle erupted from him as he looked you over. "We happen to marry drunk? I cannot recall."

"Me neither. Suppose we'll have to make up a date."

As Arthur finished the rest of the food, you both spoke back and forth about various aspects of the town of roads and the contents of its residents, particularly the grays. A light hearted conversation free of the angst and trouble often given by the one or both of you that was often the set tone.

The saloon soon grew in capacity, prompting you and Arthur to pack up. Neither of you wanted the attention you felt you were getting now.

Eyes of many ogled and monitored you both when a pack of men most recognizable by their yellow scarves pushed through the doors.

Their cheering and hollering lessened as they paused on you and Arthur, of whom kept close to you.

One of the men mumbled something you could only catch bits of, which filled you with dread as you pieced it together. "I know that face from somewhere."

Arthur glanced at you with caution, avoiding the men.

"Hey." A gruff, messy and an overall unfortunate sight stopped you two, his eyes trying to gather just where he might've seen you. "Y'all aint gon' be trouble are ya?"

His comrades surrounded your sides, everyone else had quieted down, not sure what they were to anticipate. Like a hungry hoard of coyotes.

"Just passin' through." You oblige, stepping for the exit with Arthurs in tow.

"You do look awful familiar." He interrupts so callously. The man held out his hand as to halt both of you, taking the chance for further inspection. "Say... what's that gang, boy?"

He reaches out with a harsh slap on his pal's shoulder. A younger but just as rough member of his gang. "Van Der Linde." He musters with a hiss, comforting his shoulder.

"Ya aint one of em, are ya?" He interrogates, his eyes beating through you. "What's your names?"

"Arthur and y/n Callahan. Just through this way to marry, that's all." Arthur admonishes, grabbing your hand as a demonstration. "We're only leaving."

"Married?" He was taken aback, as if it was unheard of. Light chuckles erupt from the encasing of men, some hollers and whoops once more. "Why, congratulations!" The taunting irked you and Arthur, squeezing his hand to encourage him out with you.

The man seemed to accept that as you pushed past him, but that sentiment was cut short. It was like they saw through it.

"Give us a little show, ey?" He remarks, everyone moving out onto the veranda as you and Arthur made for the horses. "Y'all ain't leavin' otherwise."

"Newly weds oughta." Another harps, egging the rest on.

"Christ." You drawl, still with Arthur in hand as you both stopped. "What's it take for a break?"

"Go bout your own business." Arthur grumbles, waving him off. He was about to continue on when the all too familiar sound of a cocking gun sounded from the group.

"That or ya sit here and wait till we figure out where we remember y'all from." His voice deepened, breathy and threatening.

Your heart. Your stomach. Everything retangled, worse than before. Arthur glared at the men, hand still held firmly in his grasp.

"It ain't hard to kiss your new wife!" Came from the left and an agreement shouted from the right.

Arthur hesitated, his eyes darting to you and back several times. Your hands grew so hot, sweating was unavoidable at that point.

You couldn't, could you? Could he? Would he?

"They fibbin', ain't they, boss?"

The man hummed, your chance was about to vanish and trouble worse than a kiss would follow.

With a heart beating like mad and an arm around Arthur, your lips met his with nerve.

A tense and swiftly executed action.

The whooping, hollering and laughing arose once more as the men got what they wanted.

As you pulled away ever so slightly, his eyes met yours, searching each other for any semblance that this was unwanted - undesirable and forced. It was an impossible find.

Arthurs arms pulled you in firmer, his eyes lit with that hunger you'd only seen sparsely.

Intense yearning drove your every instinct as your lips met again, the all familiar taste of whiskey and cigarette meeting your tongue.

Every fiber of your being wanted this moment to last forever. Not even the bother of the infuriating crowd discouraged you, that was hardly a worry.

Your stress, your worries, your overthinking- a remedy above any and all amounts of alcohol, disappeared like it'd never been.

Pulling away with a heavy breath, Arthur reluctantly let you go, gesturing to leave with his hand on the small of your back.

The men let you be as they all continued with their previous intentions, leaving you and Arthur to sit with what you had just done.

He still tensed as he walked with his shoulder scraping yours lightly, brushing his fingers across his lower lip.

“Are you okay?” He peeps, his eyes searching for assurance.

“Dandy.” You muster, continuing with the plan to hide your burning face with a hand over your mouth.

You felt about ready to blow. If that was any descriptor.

---

Javier strummed his guitar lightly, tuning it as he ran his finger across each string to adjust it better.

The occasional pops and crackles from the fire added to the song Javier was warming up for. Lighting the faces around the fire.

Sean and Bill's voices heightened every so often as their conversation slighted to bickering and back again. Something about the military and another about Ireland, you couldn't quite catch what they were on about.

Kieran had just gotten done reporting to you his catches from the nearby fishing spot he'd found. Some talk of a massive, mythical sounding bluegill. He was particularly excited about it and you were glad he was getting his mind off of the people in camp.

But you could not get one particular man in camp off your mind.

He was sat on his bed across from camp, nose in his diary. The dark made it hard to see exactly whether he was drawing or writing, either way you were curious to see.

The bustle of the camp started to die down as night befell the land, a calm you always looked forward to.

Fiddling with your pistol in hand, you decided to give it a quick clean. Running your fingertips over the engravings, the accidental scratches and dents that signified all it had been through with you.

The rag you used was due in for a cleaning of its own, the gun oil and dirt splotched the once red color of the fabric. The flame of the fire danced in reflections along the barrel of your gun, a mesmerizing sight.

From the first sin you committed, to the many that followed suit after, the feeling inside you was not one you felt you would ever succumb to.

That kiss lingered in your mind, unrelenting in its replays. The taste of him still on your tongue, the look in his eye before he kissed you.

Men are not typically a subject of desire, particularly in your field of work. They were rotten, vulgar, dangerous.

Not to say you nor Arthur were above that, but rather, it simply just didn't seem so bad with him.

It felt silly. A crush? Arthur seemed not the type for shenanigans like that either. Love. That's the worse one.

You tapped your finger against the gun in your palm, checking your bullets.

Confessing? You cringed back at the thought. Was it obvious with that kiss? Or did he feel it just a ruse as it was meant to be?

Standing before him and muttering a phrase that barely made your feelings understandable to him was particularly deplorable. What would he say to that anyway, how would he react? Maybe he'd finally tell you to get lost for good.

Uncle came lumbering out of the woodwork to join you by the fire, though not giving you much space. "Just 'bout nearly pissed myself." He groaned with a stretch of his back, having exerted himself to such exhaustion.

Javier glanced up with a furrowed brow, shaking his head, his light strums on the guitar interrupted. "We always enjoy knowing that, Uncle."

Sean had himself a giggle at Bill's glare, dismissing Uncle's antics to return to his previous rant.

"You can't thank me enough, huh, O'Driscoll?" Uncle elbows you lightly, bringing your attention to him. He noticed something amiss.

"I don't reckon I'll ever be able to show my gratitude." You smiled as you reholstered your revolver, Uncle's breath nearing a biohazard.

He chuckled his usual loud chuckle, a bottle in hand and his red pajamas soaking up the droplets he spilt as he took haphazard drinks from the bottle.

He smelt of a lot of unpleasant things, mainly alcohol and musk but the man was as aloof and happy as can be.

It wasn't long that he had another story to tell everyone who'd listen. You weren't one for it tonight, longing for the quiet some space would give you.

Excusing yourself from the fire, you decided to take the guard position. It'd give you some time to think - away from everyone else.

As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you saw Lenny come out from some brush, shotgun in hand. He walked with a drag in his step and slump in his back but a glint of hope sparkled in his eye when he noticed you.

"I'll take over for you, Lenny." You extend your arm to relieve him of his duties, though he hesitated for a moment, eyeing you.

"I ain't been out here for long," he states, "you sure?"

"It ain't no trouble."

He nods, setting the shotgun in your hands, leaving you to the dark of the surroundings.

He certainly wasn't sure of you still either, as was the running theme with the members in camp. You knew and sympathized with the reason, but you were beginning to feel the desire to be a valued part of the gang. To just be.

Reminiscing on the nights that you'd find yourself around a campfire with the O’Driscoll boys, some of your best comrades, singing, drinking, eating by the fire. A true feeling of belonging. They had trusted you.

Perhaps it was retribution. Never feeling proper after what you'd done to them.

You felt overwhelmed as you sondered into the dark, shrubby forest, walking the border quietly. Gazing up every so often as you breathed in the stuffy air, the stars sporadic in their blinking. As if in a way to remind you of that night, your near fatal mistake that landed you here.

Barely were you paying attention, lost in your thoughts, though still sure to keep your distance from whoever else was on guard, when two hands pinched your shoulders tightly.

Letting out a gasp as you tensed, a voice hissed out, "O'Driscoll."

Whipping around to free yourself, the voice matched who you suspected.

"Micah." You return, clutching the shotgun in your grasp. "You ain't gotta take over yet."

He scoffs harshly, "I wasn't bouta take your duty off your hands." The sneer on his face barely visible through the shadow, though his wiry blonde hair was clear to see.

"Then we got no business," cynicism and doubt lined every word of yours. "Do we?"

"Oh, we do, O'Driscoll." His voice always did bother you. There was something about the man you couldn't stand. "I've been catchin' you and that other rat 'round camp- doing what I can only imagine to be conspiring."

He paced a small stretch in front of you before looming over you in a fashion that seemed to be signature to him. "We just wanna be knowing what's being said."

Conspiring about a fish out of a fairy tail, perhaps. You shrugged him off and stepped away. "Kieran and I are on our best behavior. We dropped the O’Driscoll kinship long ago."

"Say what ya want, little lady." Micah followed, his voice sharp and menacing. "Dutch... Arthur- Arthur. " He repeats out his name with pure malice, "They might be lettin' you off easy? I'm not."

Micah's hand grabbed your healing shoulder with every intention to make it sting, his other targeting your neck.

"What the hell?" You choke out, shocked he felt he had much of any right to be doing what he was doing.

Shooting the man off you was desirable. But as you tussled underneath him, grunting as you fought off his hand, you knew it wasn't an option.

"I want to know," he grips onto your wrist to drive back your arm, "exactly what you're tellin' each other, especially Arthur."

He wasn't a feeble man by no means, which alarmed you as you swung wrestled with him, the leaves and brush making it hard to get good footing. "You're poisoning him, aren't you?"

"He tells me bout his fish, I tell him bout my fish." You remark angrily amongst the struggle before dealing out the classic. The side of his thigh met your knee as if he knew exactly when you'd utilize it. "Goddamn you big bastard! Arthur and I hardly stand each other."

"God may damn me all he wants." His hand on your wrist and another on the shotgun, he tried yanking from you, which you had no intention on letting happen. "But that ain't it. There's things happenin' that shouldn't. "

"Get off me, 'fore I do something we both'll regret." You hiss out before your back hits a tree. The situation ever more dire.

A shit eating grin split his face as he knocks the breath out of you, your lungs both struggling in the heavy humid air. "I want answers, O'Driscoll."

His eyes a blue that pierced through the darkness, and they sent a message, clearly, nothing short of frighteningly.

"I have nothin' to say to you, Micah." You state firmly between breaths, anger boiling your skin. "Get off me."

He hums a consideration not dually considered, his face horribly close to yours. His eyes trailing to your lips and back up.

For a moment, he paused. The only sound amongst you was heavy breathing.

The horrible feel of his free hand running down your waist zapped you of your breath. Never did his eyes stray from yours as your face twisted in disgust and horror.

"So close to camp too, no one would even bat an eye." He enjoyed every which way your face distorted because of him. Deriving a sick pleasure from your terror.

"Tell me just what you've been telling him." He demands once more. Your entire body shivered, wanting to simply dissipate or perhaps make him do so.

The tingle of your trigger finger turned into a deep nauseous ache in your stomach as his hand reached lower.

"Or ya gonna be quiet enough..." his grin turned into a hoarse, sinister cackle as if he knew you couldn't do much against him. That he could do as he pleased. "that we can have a little fun right next to camp?"

As his hand made for your belt buckle, he glanced down to take it off, and the hand he should've held shot up into his eyes.

He gasped out something fierce as you pointed the shotgun at him, the barrel stabbed harshly into his skin as you used it to shove him away.

"Damn whore!" He snarls as he hunches over, pained by the blow you dealt him.

The hammer of your revolver clicked back, a menacing and unfavorable noise to be heard in the dark. "Consider your next move a return to camp, Micah."

Now you had both your guns in his face. A bit much? Perhaps. Though that wasn't a concern now.

"Don't get too excited, O'Driscoll." He warns harshly as he wipes his eyes vigorously. "I'm not done with you." His words echoed with intent akin to the most sick of the population.

Keeping your aim trained on him, you stared as he stumbled out of the forest, grumbling his hate under his breath with each step.

As soon as he disappeared back into camp, you sighed out your relief, slumping with exhaustion. You were in shock, to put it lightly. The adrenaline bringing you down with it.

Straying further into the forest, you found your previous thoughts had left you, left you with nothing except for one.

Arthurs arms firm around you filled you with such a sense of comfort. A way to easily cope with Micah's actions toward you.

A feeling that shouldnt come from the very one who did the opposite for so long.

The whole day had taken a toll on you. The chance you took for peace veered horribly south, you didn't even know what to make of it, were you to say anything?

Would they even care? Believe you? O'Driscoll traitor accuses loyal Van Der Linde member. You shook your head.

Hugging the shotgun tightly, you trudged back and forth as long as you could muster. The fire and liveliness from camp dispeled gradually until it finally became near silent.

The frogs and crickets kept you company through the ensuing hours, an occasional firefly alerting you to its position amongst the trees and bushes every so often.

Needless to say, it was a mistake to sit down against a tree for a break.

♡

P.s.

This one I finally gave in, I couldn't WAIT to get to this chapter, I also had to star David cuz I unfortunately do have daddy issues and appreciate the found family trope way too much, but I tried to keep it minimal.

Just wanted to say I appreciate everyone who reads my stories, I absolutely love writing them despite how long it takes sometimes (cries dies) and there will be more soon, big, big plans.

I also have a little fic out based off a removed gunslinger in rdr2, I thought he was sexy so I couldnt help but write something about him... dont be shy to head over to that one.

A Kinship, of sorts. 🫣

Also, also, plan on a mini series where I write buncha one shot shenanigans with the all Van der Linde members, based off the events in this story, just know I do plan on spoiling you guys, I feel it necessary 😘

Im going through each chapter again, rewriting and adding little tid bits here and there. I also havent fixed the lemoyne raider in valentine mishap.. I had a dream I did or maybe I didn't save my changes ☹️

Much Love, M. <3

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 10 of The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

Bill is drinking tea as he looks down at Dipper’s journal. The most recent pages are several detailed descriptions and theories revolving the entity known as Copernicus (Less of an “entity” and more of a “pain in the ass” in Bill’s opinion, but tom-may-to, to-mah-to). After wading through what memories he’s got, Bill has divulged everything he can come up with on both the demon himself and incubi in general.

“So, they’re only as strong as who they’re feeding off of?” Dipper asks, scribbling something down.

Bill makes a halfway gesture.

“They’re only as strong as the strength they’ve accumulated and the realm that they’re rooted to. Copernicus feeds on this realm, most incubi do because it’s a plane rife with people who all hate their lives and are willing to indulge in anything to escape it. The goal is to feed here and tear it up in another dimension, usually the Nightmare Realm. Copernicus wants to feed and tear it up here, so he needs to bring his roots into this realm. If he does that, he doesn’t need Dottie Gleeful anymore and can just walk around and cause indiscriminate chaos.”

“Which is why he needs the rift opened—“

“So he can squeeze his scrawny ass through,” Bill mutters into the tea before taking a sip.

“How do we avoid doing that while getting him out of a person?”

Bill comes a little closer over Dipper’s shoulder.

“Your uncle’s working on that right now,” Bill mumbles before pointing at the book and the drawing that Dipper has rendered of Copernicus’ previous demon form, per Bill’s description. “Good sketch, kid.”

Dipper smiles up at him before turning back to it.

“What does he look like normally?”

Bill sighs at that.

“Well, it’s… a little more complicated.” He stares down into the cup for a second. “I always knew him like that, as a diamond with three eyes, similar to the way I used to look, but a different shape, color, and eyes set-up. He also likes neck-ties and bowler hats.”

“But?”

“But incubi are a lot more fluid with their form,” Bill explains. “He put that form on to appease me. To… To make me feel less alone.”

Copernicus, once upon a time, had been very good at that. Up until a couple of months prior, he hadn’t remembered their time together unfondly. Copernicus had been a pretty good boyfriend, all things considered. They’d drifted the Nightmare Realm together, caused undue chaos, and when Bill had told him about the things he heard, the things he saw, Copernicus believed him.

Another universe, they might have ruled this stupid planet together.

But now Bill wants to “protect it” and that kind of throws a wrench in everything else.

Not to mention his current “boyfriend” situation which is less of a “boyfriend” situation and a “maybe-not-also-kind-of-yes-boyfriend-situation”. Which, like, now isn’t exactly the time to quantify that just because they slept together.

And Bill said that he loves him.

And neither of them have commented on it in the few days since.

It’s fine. It’s good. All fine. Time to figure this stuff out once they dealt with everything else.

Right.

“What’s he look like when he’s normal?”

It takes a second for Bill to conjure the image, thinking back to the dream he’d had before they exorcised him.

“Kind of… amorphous. A cloud, grey-purple in color. Lots of hands and eyes. God, Cooper’s really just eyes. Incubi tend to have very fluid forms, lets them adapt to different forms with ease.”

“So if he is able to get the rift open—“

“No, he won’t just turn into anyone.” Bill lets out an almost bitter laugh. “He’s vain as anything, you saw the way he was with Dottie. He’s got forms he favors and he’ll turn into one of those. But, we’re not opening the rift, so it’s not really an issue that we—“

“We’re going to open the rift,” Ford announces as he walks into the kitchen.

“Oh, look,” Bill glances to Dipper, “your uncle’s gone crazy.”

[slowlypalefire]

Harrison vs Victor

Event Story

Part 2

*The translation are not guaranteed to be entirely accurate,so expected some errors

Victor took me and Harrison to provided me with a selection of high-quality "men's" suits.

Wear a jacket, pants, and shoes. My hair is tied up and hidden inside a fedora hat.

Kate: "I can’t believe that the condition for joining a social club is to be a man."

Victor: "I'm sorry. You're adorable and pretty, but I'm sealing you up for a while."

Harrison: ".....Anyway."

Victor: "Huh?"

Harrison: "Kuk..ku"

Kate: "Why are you both smiling?"

Harrison: "No? I'm not used to wearing a suit, and it looks like a child is wearing their parents clothes as a prank."

Kate: "Well, that can’t be helped."

Victor: "Ahaha, it's okay. Just straighten your back and see, you're a nice British gentleman."

Harrison: “Kukuku, nice and honorable British gentleman.

Shall I hold your hand so you don't fall?"

Victor:"Then can I hold your free hand while we go?"

Harry holds her right hand, and Victor holds her left.

The strange sight of three men walking hand in hand,had been attracting the attention of the people around them for a while now.

Kate: "Stop already! Please don't make fun of me . Come on, let's go"

Harrison: "Yes, yes, your so brave."

Victor: "Hehe, let's follow Mr. Kate

The Brown family mansion is located by the lake. It was a big mansion.

As soon as you enter the front door, you will be asked to confirm your invitation card and if you have a spouse or significant other.

(I've visited places like this several times on missions, but this is the first time I've been asked a question like this.)

(Spouses and lovers are the people you have the closest relationship with, and there is a possibility that they may reveal important secrets.)

(What exactly is Daniel-san's purpose?)

I was safely guided into the mansion and opened the door.

I couldn't help but stare at the sight that awaited me on the other side.

(The scent of chocolate everywhere!)

Various types of chocolate are lined up on the table, and what is being distributed is high-quality hot chocolate.

Victor: "This isn't a social club, it's a rate chocolate's club."

Harrison: " ... seems so"

Admist the choking scent of chocolate, only men are gathered here.

As the name of the social club suggests, everyone seemed to be enjoying the conversation while enjoying the chocolate.

Bow tie men: "I agree with women's suffering. I can’t wait."

Bowler hat men: "I have the opposite opinion. Having women in the mix makes it more multifaceted."

We also joined in the conversation and listen quietly.

(Hmm...I can't find anything suspicious from the conversation though.)

Victor: "…the man in the white suit over there it’s brown."

There was a beautiful white-skinned young man with blond hair and slicked back.

Brown: "Please eat and talk as much as you like."

"We have mountains of chocolate and cacao in our warehouse."

Kate: "...After all, he had the chocolate. But for what purpose?"

"Harry, are Mr. Brown and the others lying to you?"

Harrison:"No, there's nothing." [iya,nani mo]

Kate: "Then,they don't have anything suspicious about them at all?"

Harrison: "Being able to tell when a person is lying is not the same as knowing everything about that person."

"Therefore, be careful not to disrespect others.I have to watch it carefully."

Victor:"You remembered."

Harrison: "... It's nothing, it's not because it's your words. I just think it's a valid point."

In the eyes of the two of people, a color that reminds them of the past comes to mind.

Kate: "Um, Harry."

Harrison: "I thought you'd want to know. Moreover, when you have those eyes, you will never back down."

Kate: "Yes, please let me know."

Victor: "You're so honest.Harrison, why don't you tell her?"

Harrison: "... It was on the way back from Victor and I's first mission."

Victor: "Harrison Gray"

Harrison: "What? Do you have any complaints about my work performance today?"

Victor: "No, you have good gun skills or quick judgement. What's more it was flashing."

"I'm glad I let you join the Crown, and I'm grateful for my chance to meet you and for my decision."

"but"

"Harrison, you have a habit of underestimate others."

Harrison: "...."

Victor: "I think it's because of your ability to tell lies..."

"Being able to tell a lie doesn't mean knowing everything about that person."

"The proof is that I lied to you today."

Harrison: "...What?"

Victor: "Actually, the mission you completed earlier was a fake request that I made."

Harrison: "...." *shocked face*

".....Damn it"

Victor:"Ahaha, are you angry?" Sorry, sorry"

Harrison: "Don't cross your shoulders, you liar."

Victor: "Hey, Harrison. That's what I think."

"People are unknown and free. That’s why it’s beautiful."

"With those eyes, you can see through lies.Please stay."

End of flash back

Kate: "There was so much to it..."

Harrison and Victor's first mission When I heard his story, I was struck by the idea.

Victor: "Hmm, I've always been good-looking. Isn’t it too bad?"

Harrison: "If I let you speak for yourself and enjoy yourself, I don't care."

Victor: However,it seems like this incident is the opposite than then."

"We overestimated the situation a little bit.It seems like it was gone."

Harrison: "...It's seems like that. That brown I don't feel the malice characteristic of bad people from him."

"All I feel is loneliness and jealousy,also,vanity."

Kate: “Huh, Do you maybe found out something?."

Victor: "90% of the time. I want that last 10% certainty."

Harrison: "Kate, I need your help with something."

What they asked me to do was act in a way that makes it obvious that you are a woman in a place where people can see you in front of Brown.

And he said it was good to make 'some kind of contact.'

That's why i approach Brown-san, who is happily chatting with someone,

and "deliberately" took off the fedora hat i was wearing.

The long hair that I had been hiding fell out, Mr. Brown's eyes widen when he sees this.

Brown: "W-why is there a woman in my mansion!?"

---

Mr. Brown was shocked when he saw me take off my disguise and return to my female form.

Brown: "W-why is there a woman in my mansion!?"

(A cat hater panics like he just found a cat.)

Kate: "I’m sorry, but there are circumstances. Let’s talk over there."

Brown: "What...!"

(Eh?)

When I try to touch him, Mr. Brown face turned red and he backed away.

While the people around us were murmured, Harry and Victor approaches and calls out.

Victor: "Can I talk to you in a separate room?"

We headed to the room that had emptied, and there was no people . Then, Mr. Brown opened his mouth.

Brown: "Who the hell are you guys?

Could you please clarify?"

Harrison: "We're the police. We were given an undercover investigation."

Victor: "Recently, I heard a rumor that your company has stopped distribution of a certain product and is monopolizing the product."

Harrison: "And there are a lot of those products in this mansion. It was there. Here,look at this."

Harrison took out the box of chocolates from his pocket.

(Since when!)

Brown: "..."

Harrison & Victor: "Now, let's go check the answers."

[joanquill]

"This reminded me of you,"

24. Albert Moriarty Romantic relationships Fluff

Albert James Moriarty

Tag/s: Fluff, Established Relationship

'All right... I have the chocolate, red wine...' you listed in your head as you checked your shopping bags, checking you had everything to make homemade chocolate wine for Albert.

'...sugar... and-huh?' you stopped mid-way as you looked up from your bag, staring at a doll shop's window display.

You gasped as you stared at a cute chocolate brown tuxedo cat stuffed toy.

It also had emerald green eyes, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Albert.

"Would you like to take a closer look?" an older voice perked up, snapping you out of your trance as you turned around, seeing the shop owner offering you a warm smile.

"O-Oh, sorry..." you sheepishly apologized, not realizing you'd been caught staring.

"You can also customize the dolls if you wish," he added, perking your ears.

"Customize how?"

"You can put them in outfits you desire and add accessories," he answered, pulling out a tiny outfit and bowler hat.

"How much?" you pulled out your wallet, your eyes burning with resolve.

'Worth it...!' you silently cheered as you waited for the shop owner to pack your new stuffed toy cat in a gift box, its fur resembling Albert's hair color while its eyes matched his emerald green ones.

Even the suit and top hat resembled your lover's wardrobe.

"Thank you for your patronage," the shop owner smiled as he gave you the box.

"Thank you...!" you happily took the box; your delight could be seen from miles away.

As you were about to leave the shop, an idea struck in your mind.

"Excuse me," you hurried back to the shop owner, making him look at you curiously.

"You don't happen to do commissions, do you?"

'Just four weeks... I can't wait!' you happily thought as you stirred the chocolate wine, glancing over to the gift box.

As you prepared the chocolate wine, you didn't notice Albert entering the kitchen.

"Well, don't you look merry," Albert teased as he hugged you from behind, kissing your head.

"Albert!" you excitedly greeted as you hugged him back, kissing him on the cheek.

"Welcome home," you grinned, making Albert raise a brow with a smile.

"Did something good happen?" he asked, making you freeze.

"I-Is it that obvious?" you questioned, touching your face and feeling your aching cheeks.

Albert breathed out a smile as he looked over your shoulder, seeing the chocolate wine and gift box.

"Chocolate?" he questioned, making you nod.

"Happy Valentine's!" you beamed, giving him the better-looking drink and taking the other, clinking them together as you took a sip.

"I will be honest... This gift is more for me than it is for you, but this reminded me of you," you admitted as you pulled the gift box closer, making Albert chuckle.

He gently opened the gift and saw the customized toy cat, surprising him.

"Where did you...?"

"I saw it in a doll shop," you smiled, taking out the toy cat in a suit, "It's even customizable," you grinned, showing off the suit.

"It's cute, right?" you asked as you hugged the toy lovingly, almost making its top hat topple off its head.

Albert was about to agree, finding it adorable and funny how you customized the toy to look like him... If only you wouldn't cuddle it with so much affection in front of him.

As much as he loves to see you smile, he can't help but feel a tinge of jealousy over how elated you looked over a toy cat that resembled him.

"Yes," Albert replied flatly, grabbing the toy by its head and pulling it out of your grasp,

"It is," he agreed as he hugged you tightly, kissing your forehead.

"But I would prefer if you showed me the same level of affection, dearest," he smiled, throwing the toy out of the kitchen.

You bit the inside of your cheeks as you stifled a laugh, not expecting to see him grow jealous over a toy.

"Very well," you smiled, hugging him tightly as you peppered his face with kisses, making him relax as he kept holding you close.

You managed to find the toy again and bring it to bed, cuddling it to sleep.

Albert quickly saw you and almost threw the toy into the fireplace... but he settled to hiding it from you in the basement as he cuddled with you instead.

[dufferpuffer]

"Why didn't anyone do anything to help Harry" Alastor Moody did.

Arthur too, bless him - but Mad-Eye doesn't fucking hold back. And he's only known Harry for a few spotty meetings over a year.

“Well — shall we do it, then?” “Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,” said Moody. ... ... “Good afternoon,” said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon, coming to a halt right in front of him. “You might remember me, my name’s Arthur Weasley.” ... ... “We thought we’d just have a few words with you about Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, still smiling. “Yeah,” growled Moody. “About how he’s treated when he’s at your place.” ... ... “I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house —” “I expect what you’re not aware of would fill several books, Dursley,” growled Moody. “Anyway, that’s not the point,” interjected Tonks, ... ... “The point is, if we find out you’ve been horrible to Harry —” “— and make no mistake, we’ll hear about it,” added Lupin pleasantly. “Yes,” said Mr. Weasley, “even if you won’t let Harry use the fellytone —” “Telephone,” whispered Hermione. “Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter’s been mistreated in any way, you’ll have us to answer to,” said Moody. ... ... “Are you threatening me, sir?” he said, so loudly that passersby actually turned to stare. “Yes, I am,” said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly. “And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?” barked Uncle Vernon. “Well . . .” said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backward in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. “Yes, I’d have to say you do, Dursley.” He turned from Uncle Vernon to Harry. “So, Potter... give us a shout if you need us. If we don’t hear from you for three days in a row, we’ll send someone along....”

OotP, Chapter 38 (edited for brevity)

Met this boy a handful of times and says: "The Muggles treat him bad? Nope. I ain't standin' for that." Clunks over, scares the shit out of them - and makes promises he intends to keep as a support network for Harry.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 27 - Record-Breaker

Mallard Broke the World Speed Record; It Broke Her:

4468 Mallard broke the world steam speed record in 1938, changing her life forever…

1938:

The quiet, almost timid engine sat in the works, listening to the workers. “You hear? That engine there is fastest in the world!” one said, pointing to the famous engine. Mallard blinked, amazed. She’d never been told if she’d actually broken the record – but to hear that she had, and to hear that it was major news! It was incredible.

There was no one better than her in that moment – she was the greatest!

“Ah, the engine of the hour!” cheered a voice. Mallard gazed down, spotting Sir Nigel Gresley himself walking over. Mallard gasped in amazement. The Chief Mechanical Engineer almost never visited his engines. “I came to congratulate you again, Mallard. I am proud of you – you are truly a credit to this railway. The poster child for what every Northeaster engine should strive for. Well done, and keep up the good work, Mallard.”

Mallard beamed, thanking her designer. Then, she turned to the gossiping workers. “Well? You heard him – I need to be back in service now! Hurry it up!”

1963:

“So, which of us is to be preserved?” asked Silver Link, staring down apprehensively at the members of the British Railways board. The men had come to decide on a Gresley Pacific to save from the scrapper’s torch.

“Who do you think?” snorted one of the men in the bowler hats. “We must choose the locomotive that achieved the greatest feat of a steam locomotive – 60022 Mallard, you are to be restored to your LNER looks and sent to the Museum of British Transport Museum. The rest of you… hope someone purchases you.”

Silver Link just stared in shock as several diesels sniggered in the background. “But I… but… She didn’t even make it back to London! I am the first! I reached 114—” “Stop speaking 60014, there is no reason for you to complain. You are already withdrawn, and shall be sent away once we have the time.” “Mallard… are you going to allow this?” asked Silver Link, eyes wide in horror. “Well, elder sister, some of us are just… more important than others. I represent our class, and I am the best at such an honour.” Silver Link went red in the face, but Mallard was already steaming away, blowing smoke at her elder sister.

Behind Silver Link, Flying Scotsman and Silver King shared a nervous look.

1975:

Flying Scotsman sat on the points outside the brand new York National Railway Museum, Green Arrow on one side and Gordon on the other. It was the first time that the four had seen each other – the fourth being an indignant Mallard sat opposite them.

“What do you mean, he’s worthy of being the same level as me?” sniffed Mallard. “He’s a mixed traffic engine!” “Green Arrow is an LNER engine, same as us,” reminded Scott crossly, facing down his cousin. “And there are only nine LNER Pacifics left, so your levels are completely worthless! We need to end this… this… this…” “Elitist garbage!” Gordon snapped. “We are long past this, cousin. What’s stopping you from accepting Green Arrow?” “Green Arrow is a simple mixed traffic engine,” hissed Mallard. “I am the greatest steam engine to have ever been built! No one has ever, or will ever, beat my record. There’s a reason that I am in this museum, and you are out slaving away to keep in steam.”

“Slaving away?!” Gordon let off steam furiously. Scott just clenched his jaw. “There’s no point arguing with her,” he sighed. “We’re better off just getting the rest on side.” The three steamed away, leaving Mallard to be pushed gently back into the grand museum by a timid diesel shunter.

None of the other engines in the museum spoke to her as she was shunted into place. Not Evening Star, not Aerolite, not Coppernob. They all just shot her dark glances.

1988:

Mallard sped along the line, feeling the wind rush past her face. “I forgot what this was like,” she huffed, finally arriving back at Doncaster after crossing the country to reach Scarborough and back. Several relatives of her crew from back when she’d broken the world record sat in her coaches – but they were inconsequential. After all, any crew could have gotten her up to her record-breaking speed.

“So, how was the run?” asked Gordon politely, sitting in the next platform over. Mallard ignored him. Gordon rolled his eyes. Green Arrow and Spencer shared a look.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Spencer. “Though I’ve heard that the East Germans have built a steam locomotive that’s almost able to match Mallard’s speed.” Mallard’s eye twitched. “No they haven’t!” she suddenly snarled, spooking several of the passengers on the platform. “I am the fastest. That’s my role! Don’t talk such drivel around me.”

Spencer sighed. As the only one of Mallard’s siblings willing to speak to her, and one of only four engines that had spoken to Mallard (he’d checked with Duchess of Hamilton) in the last ten years, he was uniquely able to see just how much his younger sister had changed.

Where Mallard had once been a healthy pale, her pallor had grown almost dangerously blue – while her formerly vibrant eyes had gone dull, with just a hint of something… unsettling in them. And yet her paintwork was spotless, her brass polished until it glistened in the sun, even after a full run with passengers.

“Are you alright?” asked Spencer quietly. Gordon and Green Arrow pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon?!” roared Mallard, spooking yet more passengers. “Are you insinuating something?! That such a simple run would tire me out? I am the fastest steam engine in the world – I am more than competent, thank you.” “I just wanted to ch—” “Well don’t!” sneered Mallard. “I am fine.”

Spencer’s tentative frown turned downwards into a scowl, and the great silver engine hissed steam as he started away. Gordon watched him go, knowing deep in the pit of his boiler that the silver engine wouldn’t be back.

Silver King had never truly forgiven his younger sister for the way she’d spoken to Silver Link, even if his name had changed, as had his owners and his lifestyle.

2013:

Spencer, Bittern, Dominion of Canada, Dwight D Eisenhower, Union of South Africa, and Sir Nigel Gresley all stood in awkward silence. Their sister – Mallard – was being wheeled out of the museum for a photoshoot. “So… did you hear her last night?” asked Dwight quietly. “She was screaming at the shunting diesels again.” “I can’t believe they made me agree to his,” hissed Spencer. “I promised myself after 1988 – never again. And yet here I am. At least Scott gets to hide in the workshops.” “It cannot be that bad?” tried Woodcock – only the humans called her Dominion of Canada, “I mean… she has to have made some friends in there, right?” “Unlikely,” snorted Osprey – the humans had given her that name in the 1980s, and she much preferred it to ‘Union of South Africa’, “she spends most of her days just glaring at everyone. Last I heard, it’s a real treat for them when she gets brought out here to be gawked at.”

“Shh! Shh! She’s coming,” warned Bittern. The six all went silent as Mallard was dragged off the turntable and over to the line of engines.

“Ah, good, you all made it,” Mallard said haughtily. “It’s what I deserve, getting the humans to bring you all here to celebrate our class’s greatest achievement.” “What you—” Osprey cut off, indignant. Beyond her, Dwight gawked in shock while Spencer just rolled his eyes. The shunter braked the famous engine to a stop, jolting slightly.

“Did you just jolt me?” hissed Mallard, voice deathly quiet. The shunter gulped. “Don’t you dare!” snapped Spencer, speaking to the world-record holder for the first time in nearly thirty years. “You cannot deride these hard-working engines, I refuse to allow it!” “Oh? As if you are any better, Mr Private Engine,” sneered Mallard. “Silver King, the weird runt of the class who galivants off to that backwards island where our Crewe-rebuilt cousin lives.” “Gordon still pulls his express!” roared Spencer, letting off steam furiously. “Gordon treats everyone with respect! He’s a far better representative of our railway than you are – he’s out there, pulling passengers and acting as the ambassador for Gresley’s work. He holds a record for the longest-serving express engine in the world!”

“He has Midland parts,” snarled Mallard. “He’s a mongrel of parts, and I can’t stand him! I can’t stand him and his righteousness! This is my celebration, my record, my museum! He can talk when he has a proper record of his own. Let’s see him try and beat me – oh wait, didn’t he lose his dome last time he attempted that?”

None of the other A4s spoke, and the moment the photoshoot was over, all four in steam left, taking Dwight and Woodcock with them, leaving Mallard alone.

2016:

Flying Scotsman sat outside the NRM, steam wafting from his funnel. He was the last one left. Spencer had permanently relocated to Sodor after 2013, the other A4s steered clear of York Museum, Gordon had his own work, and Green Arrow had moved to Shildon. So, it was only him left to talk to her.

“Oh, it’s the money pit.” “Mallard. I came to say goodbye.” “Goodbye? Where are you going, Gresley Disgrace?” “I’m going to run mainline excursions,” Flying Scotsman replied evenly. “I’m not going to have to listen to you anymore when you scream abuse at the others or rant about the new PRR engine.” “Rant? Abuse? 4472, you don’t understand! I am Gresley’s pride and joy! I am the greatest – he would roll over in his grave if he saw you now. It’s my destiny to be the greatest – and everyone needs to accept that!” “Sir Nigel Gresley loved us all equally,” snapped Flying Scotsman. “And don’t you forget, any one of your class—”

“I did it!” roared Mallard. “Me! Not any of you! I am the world record breaker – I am the greatest steam engine of all time! You’re nothing compared to me! I am Sir Nigel’s triumph! I am the legacy of the Northeasters! Me! How dare you speed to me like that?! Learn your place!”

Flying Scotsman stared evenly back at the shrieking engine. “I have,” he said simply. “And it’s not here. The other engines can survive listening to your abuse, but I don’t have to. You’re nothing, Mallard. Not anymore. You sit here, on this siding, in this shed, and you cling to the past because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

Flying Scotsman puffed out of the shed, the wrecked screams of his cousin following him through the sliding shed doors. They transformed from howls of rage into a hail of screeching tears, as Mallard’s entire self-worth crashed down on her. The former icon of steam and speed finally lost it, all the rage and anger and simmering hatred growing inside her frames boiling over as she cursed her cousin.

Flying Scotsman couldn’t help but feel sorry for the engine – but all the same, she had spent decades wrecking their designer’s good name with her attitude. Her stardom had placed her up on a pedestal – one where the loneliness of fame had engulfed her.

Back to Master Post

[caesariawritesstuff]

Frenemy

Summary: It's tough being on opposite sides of the law when it comes to Edward Nigma.

Content Warning: Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 1.3k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

There’s a beep in your ear as Oracle’s voice comes over your comm, “I think I finally tracked Nigma’s location. But he’s bouncing it off several cell towers. I’ve got Robin checking out the first, can you get to the second?”

You sighed. Not this again. With a shake of your head, you replied, “Yes. Give me the address.”

She spouted it off to you, but you were just barely registering her voice. Because instead, you felt a deep disappointment growing within you.

You’re not sure how it started, exactly. This strange frenemy-type of thing you had going on with Edward Nigma. Probably a year ago, when you were the first to arrive on the scene of one of his schemes. Back then, you’d been new to vigilantism, new to the role of Batgirl, which Oracle had honorarily given to you. You were still new to your training and not as on guard as you should’ve been – and that’s how you found yourself in the clutches of the Riddler.

He'd mocked you, forcing you to solve his riddles, using as bait until Batman arrived. But to his surprise, you’d managed to solve every single one. You’d watched as his smug smirk twisted into a sneer of humiliation and outrage. He’d thrown one of his usual tantrums, claiming you were cheating or getting outside help. You assured him you weren’t.

And maybe, deep down, you think he believed you.

With another heavy sigh, you grappled across Gotham’s rooftops as quickly as you could. The roar of sirens and alarm bells and nightlife rang throughout, a symphony of criminal chaos. Within minutes, you found yourself out of what appeared to be an abandon apartment building: the shudders were boarded shut, rust covered the metal doors. It looked as though it happened been lived in in quite some time, but you knew better; it was exactly the perfect hideout for the Riddler to hole up in. Inconspicuous and unnoticed. You quietly searched the windows and doors, looking for the perfect way in – but you finally found it: a small, electronic box that appeared to be an old power box. But instead, you flipped it open to reveal a screen. Staring back at you were the bright, green words: When you don't have me, you want me, but when you do have me, you want to give me away. What am I?

You smiled; that’s an easy one. Quickly you punched in the answer: Secret.

As expected, a hidden compartment within brick walls slid forward, revealing a secret passageway inside. You held your breath, keeping your guard up, as you followed the path in. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and smell of dank mold clung to the air. Scrunching up your nose, you tried not to breathe as you followed the passage for several yards until you finally came to his hideout.

You spotted him sitting before an array of vast monitors and computers, all glowing bright green, enveloping him in their emerald glow. The top of his bowler hat peeked over the back of the chair he was in.

With a sigh, he spun around and faced you. “I should’ve expected you,” he said, annoyance lacing his tone. He leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands, which were rested on the top of his cane.

“Hoping I was someone else?” you asked.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smirk, and you grinned back. It was strange, how this was what had become of your relationship. After all these months, time and time again, you’d somehow found yourself in this position with him. And even though you were on other sides of the law, you couldn’t help but find some enjoyment in your small interactions with him.

And there’d been plenty more than you expected.

He turned away, his focus back on the screens. “Go away, little Bat. You’re going to ruin my plans before they’ve even begun.”

You laughed lightly, wandering into the rest of the hideout. Your gaze focused on the screens, on each camera which was pointed somewhere important in Gotham. On one screen, you noticed Batman procuring himself one of Riddler’s trophies out of little green cage.

Edward snickered. “He got lucky with that one,” he said, but it was more to himself than to you.

“So,” you sighed. “What exactly are you planning this time? A giant robot? Hostages aboard a runaway train? Children dangling above a vat of acid?”

He paused his typing, glancing at you. “Perhaps.”

You snorted. “Come on Edward, don’t be in such a mood. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your plans.”

“Come back later, then. I have more important things to deal with.”

“Like outsmarting Batman? You know he’s going to come here and kick the crap out of you, like usual.” It wasn’t the first time you’d watched as Edward got his shit kicked in and dragged out a broken, beaten mess.

Sure, you were trained in hand-to-hand combat yourself. But Batman had a particular brand of violence that you didn’t follow through with.

Edward was quiet for a longer moment that usual. Perhaps he was ruminating over your words. You put your hands on your hips and waited for his reply. Admittedly, you weren’t ready to walk out. For some strange reason you couldn’t explain it…he fascinated you. Despite his criminal crusade, he was incredibly smart, and you valued that.

And that was how you found yourself in this strange predicament with him – somehow always enjoying each other’s company. At least, you thought he must’ve come to tolerate you, because he wasn’t kicking you out anymore.

Your gaze strayed back to the monitors, studying their placement, before you shifted your attention to the dozens of blueprints and plans laid out in a scattered mess across his desk, several which were stained with a neat ring of coffee. His hand immediately shot out, arms covering what he could.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted with a click of his tongue. “These aren’t for your eyes, little Bat. It looks like you’re cheating to me. I knew your brain was the size of a peanut.” He rolled his eyes.

You barked out a laugh. “Right. Whatever you say.” A small smirk formed at the corner of your mouth, and you turned your attention back to the monitors. In one, Robin was just leaving the location Oracle had mentioned – which appeared to be booby-trapped, which he just narrowly escaped. Batman himself was solving another puzzle – also just missing a trap Riddler had programed to kill him as soon as he snatched up a trophy.

You held your breath as a chill crept down your spine. The sudden realization that you were sitting here with the Riddler, chatting with him as if you were friends – like always, it seemed fun at first. Harmless. Until the reality of the situation set in. That he was trying to kill the people you’d come to know and love.

Edward’s attention on the monitors, the scowl on his face as Batman continued to solve his riddles, didn’t budge. But unlike Batman, you weren’t about to go throwing fists.

“Ten minutes,” you said quietly. “I’m giving you a ten-minute head start.”

He paused, slowly turning to you. “Do you really think that’s wise?”

“Probably not.”

“See? I knew you were an idiot.” He chuckled lowly to himself, turning his attention back to the monitors, his fingers racing across the keyboard.

You walked out of the hideout and grappled onto a nearby rooftop, keeping a close eye. And within minutes, you watched him sneak out the hidden entrance. He smirked and tipped his hat to you, before sneaking away into the shadows. You reached down to your toolbelt and pushed a small tracking device, alerting the GCPD to your location. The minutes counted down like an eternity as you kept your eyes trained on the splash of green amongst the darkness.

And when those ten minutes were up, you followed.

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

Evil Love Blooming In The Dark Part 1 Jude Jazza ~ Premium END

 ｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

The man wearing a bowler hat recognized Mr. Jude.

With his arm around my neck and restraining me, he pressed something hard against my temple.

(.......Is that a pistol?)

Jude: "Ha, enjoying there, Kate?"

(If Mr. Jude says.....'I don't care about her, I'm not going to negotiate with you')

(At this moment, I'm will be----)

My whole body almost shakes with fear.

Mr. Jude looked at me like happily.

Jude: "......Haha. That's a nice face. Is it scary? Are you scared?"

Jude: "You want my help?"

(Isn't it obvious....!)

I was too desperate to be able to speak.

Jude: "Okay, bye then."

(........Hey!? Are you not going to help me!? Wait!?)

Man wearing a bowler hat: "I'll let the sweet reunion drama between lovers end here."

Jude: "What a pity. I won't mind if you watch us a little longer."

Mr. Jude shifted his gaze from me to the man, and his amethyst eyes squinted.

Jude: "Looks like you're doing a fine business using our rental warehouse, huh?"

Jude: "If it's just buying and selling guns and other shady stuff that's fine."

Jude: "But didn't we me a contract that you wouldn't buy and sell humans?"

(....Buying and selling humans.....)

Man wearing a bowler hat: "I was hoping you'll let me off the hook there."

Man wearing a bowler hat: "Poor people can be sold for a good price."

Man wearing a bowler hat: "It's good for your pockets and also cleans the dumps from London Harbor, don't you think?"

Jude: ".............."

Man wearing a bowler hat: "You love watching other people's misfortune, right? And you also love money. You'll have no other options other than letting me go, right?"

Man wearing a bowler hat: "If you agree, I'll return your lover unharmed."

(.....In other words, this person was doing human trafficking in the warehouse, he rented from Mr. Jude and thus breaking their contract)

(And now he's threatening Mr. Jude to let it slide)

The arm around my neck, suddenly felt----uncomfortable.

(I don't want to die. But...)

(But that will lead to this person getting away instead of paying for his sins....)

(I absolutely do not want.....that bad aftertaste)

I bite my lips to hold back my fear and looked at Mr. Jude.

I strained my throat to keep my voice from shaking.

Kate: "Mr. Jude. I'll correct...what I said earlier."

Jude: ".........."

Jude: "........Seriously, you're hopeless."

(.......?)

Despite pitying and dismissing me, somehow, the kind smile he was making right now made my heart jump for a moment.

(W-What is...this feeling?)

Jude: "I don't need you telling me what to do, so shut the fuck up."

The smile quickly faded and Mr. Jude stared at the man with cold eyes.

Jude: "Even so, you're negotiating from a very high place."

Jude: "I see you have some misconceptions about me, so I'm correcting them."

Jude: "First. You're right about the fact that I love others' misfortune and money......but you know what I like the best?"

Jude: "I like making rich people like you, who are sitting on thrones and thinking we're the only ones who are safe, fall in despair."

Man wearing a bowler hat: ".....Ha?"

Immediately after that, gunshots and screams tore through the air in the warehouse.

(W-What the!?)

The guards surrounding the man wearing a bowler hat flop down in the darkness.

Man wearing a bowler hat: "W-What the hell!?"

Taking advantage of the upset man, Mr. Jude closes the distance at once and twists up the hand holding the gun.

Jude: "Second. No matter what weakness I may have, when it comes to making contracts, I will not forgive any defaulter."

Man wearing a bowler hat: "Nn....!"

Jude: "Third."

Kate: ".....!?"

He roughly pulls me away from the man and hugged me tightly.

Jude: "No matter what decision I make, she will be leaving this place unharmed."

Mr. Jude's knee dug deep into the man's abdomen and the man crumpled to the ground.

(....He saved me again)

He was still holding me close to his chest, and I was trying my best to soothe my raging heartbeat.

(This......This is different. Not because he is saving me or hugging me)

(I'm just nervous because I was scared....yeah, t-that's why)

While I was making excuses that I don't intent to tell anyone, Mr. Jude pointed the gun at the man.

Jude: "Don't worry. I'm not going to turn you in."

Jude: "Instead, you will be part taking in a rather 'dangerous' research."

Jude: "You will soon get to know the joys of physical labor. Aren't you excited?"

The man, bubbling and convulsing, groaned in agony and fainted.

Jude: "Ellis, take him."

When called out, Ellis emerges from the darkness.

(It was Ellis who shot the guards earlier.....?)

His large hand held a pistol like it was a toy.

Ellis: ".....So, Jude? You are happy, right?"

Jude: "Do I look like I'm happy? You know what, after you send him to the lab, go get your eyes checked as well."

Ellis: "Okay."

Looking a little sad, Ellis drags the man out of the warehouse.

Kate: "....Y-You didn't kill him?"

Jude: "' I accepted this 'mission' on the condition that if I could bring down the organization, I would be responsible for whether the target lives or dies."

(Eh.....)

Jude: "I don't think bastards like him who look down on and exploit people from a safe place should be easily punished by death."

Jude: "If you commit a crime, you must be punished for it. That's how the world works. But what's the point in simply killing him if he doesn't suffer the same hell as those he harassed?"

Kate: "Wait! Wait a second!.....This was a mission!?"

Jude: "Be quiet, you're too loud. So what if this was a mission, huh?"

Kate: "So then that means, you didn't coincidently come here to rescue me when I was accidentally kidnapped........"

Jude: "It wasn't accidental. They knew I was sniffing out their business...."

Jude: "I also knew they'd try something like this if they had a chance."

Jude: "And you were hanging out with me. How can you not be a target?"

Kate: "You knew that.....and still left me alone there...?"

Jude: "Do you have to ask me every time you want to know what I'm talking about?"

Kate: "I could've died you know....!"

Jude: "Don't be silly. I wouldn't let the person, I baited, get killed at least."

(And he calls me a 'bait'....!)

Kate: "You're the worst...."

Jude: "Yes yes and I take great pride in that. Thank you very much."

Mr. Jude lights up a cigarette and leaves the warehouse as if his work here is over.

Not to forget, kicking Mr. Jack away, who was lying on the ground, moaning in pain like the rest of the guards.

..........

Kate: ".......Since my task is to understand you better, may I ask something?"

Kate: "You said you were sending that man to be a subject of research, right? .....What kind of research is it?"

Jude: "You don't have to know about that."

(He said 'dangerous'.....so it could be life-threatening)

(I wonder if the aftereffects of being there will make that man hate Mr. Jude enough to want to kill him again)

(....I frown every time I remember the look in that man's eyes....when he pointed a knife at us in the alley during the day)

(I wouldn't be able to live with that kind of killing intent from.....so many people at all hours of the day)

Kate: "The more you harass people, the more they'll hate you..."

Kate: "Isn't it tormenting to live like that?"

Jude: "Well, that's the price I have to pay for a fun hobby."

Kate: "Is it so much fun that you're willing to risk your own life to make it worth it.....?"

Jude: "......."

Mr. Jude. who was walking in front of me, stopped and turned around at my question.

(....!)

His face comes closer and the tips of our noses almost touch.

Jude: "Can I harass you till you hate me so much you want to kill me, and then we'll see?"

Kate: *gulps*

Jude: "......Hah, just kidding. Did you actually think I would be serious?"

Mr. Jude looked at me with a satisfied smile as I looked back at him in horror. He then took another puff of his cigarette.

Jude: "Seriously though, I don't get you, diligent princess."

(I don't know.....I don't even wanna know him)

(This man is arrogant, ruthless, sadist....)

(But......even though it was Mr. Jude who put me in danger today, he also did protect me)

I really had made a promise to him, without thinking about the malice that would come after....

I would not have made it through the day unscathed if it were not for him.

-----FLASHBACK------

Jude: "Don't make promises so easily, princess. I'll teach you that slowly over the course of a day."

-----FLASHBACK ENDS------

I guess he was, as the saying goes, teaching me the rules of the dark night world I had stepped into.

Perhaps it is because he knows the weight of making promises.

(....I'm extremely reluctant to thank you, but)

Kate: ".........So.......thank you.......for everything....."

Jude: "What's with that discontented 'thank you'? Can't you smile more?"

(This man....!)

Kate: "I have learned the dangers of making promises. Next time, I will be more careful."

He smiles but it was a disciplinary one.

Jude: "Glad to hear."

Laughing coldly, he grabbed my chin roughly.

Kate: "W-What....!?"

Jude: "You were smart enough to keep your promise to Victor and your promise to me."

Jude: "But I saved your life twice today."

Jude: "You owe me twice."

(Mm.....?)

The ruthless amethyst eyes glinted at me bewitchingly.

Like a cunning predator who gifts his prey and also plays with it.

Jude: " I wonder how my cute girlfriend....is going to repay me?"

 ｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

Story // Bitter End // Epilogue

[alligator-tearzz]

Why Didn't You Stop Me? Chapter Four

Masterlist

AO3 Link

Playlist

Chapter Four

By the time Rosa finally had the chance to gather her thoughts, the gang had packed up everything they had and loaded it all back onto their carts. She helped with making sure all the boxes and loose items were secure and hopped onto the back of a wagon with the girls. They started the journey down the mountain. Rosa was all too happy to leave the old town of Colter behind, but the cold still chilled her to her bones and made her muscles ache. She caught Charles’s eye sitting at the front of the wagon behind them and exchanged friendly glances.

The change of scenery felt like they were starting anew. From the stormy and challenging past to the bright and sunny future. Spirits were high among the gang and it was hard for Rosa to even think of her troubles at that moment as she felt the excitement radiating off the girls around her. She knew her emotions would bubble up later, but for the time being, she was content sitting among the girls, giggling and chatting about their hopes for their new camp.

“Oh I hope we have a river nearby, it’s drivin’ me crazy not bein’ able to wash up.” Mary-Beth said excitedly with her familiar midwestern twang. 

“Lord knows we need it, I’m starting to smell like a dead rat.” Karen retorted, sniffing herself and scrunching up her face in a sour look to emphasise her point, drawing out laughs from all the girls in the wagon.

“Well I just hope we’ll be able to do something for once, I don’t know how much longer I can deal with staying behind at camp sewing and cleaning.” Tilly sighed, then looked toward Rosa, “it must be so freeing, Rosa, being able to run with the men.” Rosa shrugged.

“I do appreciate it, though being depended on to contribute money all the time is rough. Sometimes men’s pockets are dry and I can’t do much about it. God forbid you tell Dutch that, though.” Rosa mused. The girls chuckled, but didn’t add much else to the feed the flames about Dutch. Their conversations eventually broke off into separate chats among everyone, then they all eventually extinguished, with Karen and Tilly opting to rest their eyes. Rosa and Mary-Beth read a book together, giggling and squealing over the plot, until a commotion behind them made their wagon stop. Rosa and Mary-Beth peered over the back of the wagon, watching as one of the back wheels of Arthur and Hosea’s wagon had fallen off. Arthur groaned and hopped off the wagon, walking around to bash the wheel back onto its axel.

They continued on, after Arthur assured them they didn’t need help, and Rosa settled back in reading with Mary-Beth again.

As they rolled onto the path cutting through a thick treeline, Rosa eyed Javier standing guard, who nodded to her and tipped his bowler hat. She flashed a smile at him then settled back into the wagon as it rolled past him, catching her breath she didn’t realise had run from her.

Rosa helped everyone set up, occasionally getting nosy, running her fingers over the ridges carved in Javier’s guitar, staring at the photo she propped up by Arthur’s bed, reading the blurbs of Mary-Beth’s books before getting reprimanded by Miss Grimshaw for dawdling. By the time everything came together, she was exhausted. The camp had a newfound sense of hope and excitement now, as everyone seemed to buzz about with more energy. Though the chill still lingered a bit, the new warmth gave Rosa a little pep in her step. She made her way over to the round table by Pearson’s wagon, sitting down to watch Tilly play dominoes with Arthur. 

“You wanna join, Rosa?” Tilly asked as she shuffled the tiles around. She had just beaten Arthur in the last round, who was shaking his head in mock disappointment. Rosa chuckled at his reaction and nodded, grabbing an empty domino rack then placing her tiles on it. “Can I just say, I am so glad Miss Grimshaw isn’t on our backs for the rest of today. I really needed this rest without worrying about dying from the cold.” Rosa watched Tilly place her domino down, and nodded in agreement with her. 

“I think she’s as happy as any of us to get out of that place. It’s been a rough few days for us.” Rosa responded, surveying her dominos and trying to figure out the best one to place down after Arthur chooses his own.

“I still don’t know what happened on that ferry, and no one seems to want to give me much information on it.” Arthur said, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes seemed to go off to the side in thought. Rosa and Tilly shared knowing looks, they had both confided in each other about the same thing. The most they knew was that it was going well one moment, then the next it wasn’t. They remember waiting on standby at their camp near Blackwater, then having to pack up and leave after Dutch had come back, his gravelly voice booming and instructing that they had to leave immediately. That’s when it felt like life had flipped upside down for Rosa. When Jenny wasn’t among the people who returned, and Lenny had strided into camp looking like his world had shattered, Rosa knew. She didn’t need to seek confirmation, she just knew, and she immediately went to gather Jenny’s belongings. She shook her head, trying to push back the memories again and ground herself in the moment. She stared at the grooves in the wood of the table, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Your guess is as good as ours, Arthur.” She responded. Arthur stared at her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly having more to say, but knowing it wasn’t the time. Tilly continued on with the game, changing the topic to the nearby livestock town, Valentine. It was supposedly a pretty lively town, though it was apparently covered in mud mixed with horse shit, according to Arthur, with his upper lip lifted up in a disgusted sneer as he recalled the smell from when he rode out to see it while the camp was being set up.

Rosa half-heartedly listened to Tilly pulling all the details she could about the opportunities for the gang in Valentine from Arthur. She focused her attention on the game, not participating verbally but nodding and smiling occasionally when the conversation called for it. The game finished with Tilly putting her fists in the air with a quiet whoop, celebrating her win and poking fun at Arthur’s domino skills, despite Rosa having even less points than him. Rosa smiled, trying to make herself seem as energetic as she could as she excused herself from the table and thanked them for letting her play. 

Slowly, she ambled toward a part of the camp that she had eyed since they had finished setting up. A log by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the beautiful scenery below them. She settled on the log, her eyes trying to make out houses, train tracks, water, anything to take her mind off the grief that had suddenly started bubbling up inside her. The unanswered questions about Jenny’s death and what exactly happened in Blackwater were slowly starting to eat away at her, now that she didn’t have the distraction of surviving through the gang’s days in the Grizzlies. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Javier’s all too familiar voice rang out from behind Rosa, and she whipped around to look at him, staring at her sheepishly, holding his guitar by the neck. She turned back around to stare at the scenery.

“You can sit here too, unless you want to be alone, but I’m not leaving because I was here first.” 

Javier chuckled, then sat next to her on the log, resting his guitar on his lap and strumming once to see if it was tuned.

“So welcoming, Rosa, thank you.” Rosa turned her head slightly to watch Javier tune up his guitar. Contemplating whether or not to keep talking to him.

Fuck it.

“I missed hearing you play, you know.” She said, still focusing on him tuning, occasionally strumming. He looked up to meet her eyes and grinned at her.

“Is that so?”

Rosa hummed. He smiled to himself as he looked back at his guitar. “Feels like forever since I played. It’s only been a few days.”

“A long and gruelling few days.” Rosa added, making Javier nod in agreement. Seemingly having tuned his guitar to his liking, he turned to meet her gaze again.

“Any requests for my first song at Horseshoe Overlook? Since you missed hearing me play so much.” He teased, and Rosa chuckled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She put her index finger on her chin and looked up at the sky, in a mocking display of serious thinking which pulled a hearty laugh from Javier.

“How about Angel de Amor?” Javier raised a brow.

“Such a solemn song for such a bright and happy camp.” Rosa rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t nothin’ bright and happy about our camp right now, Javier.” She looked into his eyes and his gaze softened. He seemed to understand her now. The losses from the Blackwater job still seemed to be hanging over everyone like a dark cloud, Rosa more-so than most. She had lost her closest friend, the woman who always understood her, the woman she could always count on, the woman she shared her deepest thoughts with over the burning campfires late at night. 

And so he played the song she requested. His fingers picking and strumming the strings adeptly, his eyes closed as he felt the lyrics he sang.

The lyrics, melancholy and heartfelt, describing a love that had slipped through Javier’s fingers, a love that Javier still mourned.

Together they sat on that log until the sun set, letting themselves mourn. Feeling what they didn’t allow themselves to feel before. 

Finding a silent pull toward each other amidst the loneliness of grief.

[lefaystrent]

The Heart Waivers

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Moceit, Patton/Janus

Summary: Little white lies are still lies. Patton struggles to admit his limits.

-------------------------------------------------------

The door to Morality's room clicks closed behind him.

He slumps back against the painted wood, and for the first time in a long time, he let's the smile fall away. The crow's feet smooths. The twinkle in his eyes burns out to ash.

Motes of nostalgia float through the air. Sunshine filters in past the sheer curtains. All the things dear to him lay out before him. A shrine to memories in all the photographs hanging from the walls. A haven of hospitality with a scattering of snacks and pillow forts. A bastion of comfort to welcome the weary and put woes aside for another day.

So why isn't it working?

Why does he feel so bruised inside?

Unmoved, Patton stares into the distance, at something, nothing at all really. This is the point where he's supposed to shake his head, slap his cheeks, and tell himself, "One more round, buddy! You got this!" Because if you grin hard enough that tears pool into your eyes, your body isn't supposed to tell the difference between what is real.

He is emotion, not lack thereof. The thought of one more step brings possibilities, not heartache.

But the heart waivers all the same.

Maybe he can just take a few moments. A breather. Get his head back in the game.

He'll be fine.

"My, my, what do I spy with my slitted eye. A lost little compass that can't find its way."

It takes longer than it should, to register Deceit stepping into the room, as if he'd been standing in a shadowed corner this entire time. Maybe he had. Patton doesn't so much as glance at him.

Out of his peripheral, he is aware of the dark silhouette standing next to him. Arms crossed, like a parent who's found his kid with his head stuck in the cookie jar. That's usually a job reserved for Patton.

Typically, the thought would get a little giggle out of him. Why can't he just–

He's just a little tired, that's all.

"For someone who claims honesty is the best policy, I find you terribly lacking these days," Janus comments, voice silky smooth. He's come to start some philisophical debate with Patton, per usual.

But Patton doesn't understand. His brows pinch together, and his head tilts in Janus's direction but he still can't seem to bring himself to look. "Have I said something? I don't think I've said anything lately."

Is that really what his voice sounds like?

So empty lifeless dead bland?

Footsteps brush against the carpet, soft and heavy. Janus slinks around in front of him, languidly pacing back and forth. A facsimile of a smile, and a glint of light off scales. A yellow canary preening it's feathers, and the prowling snake that ate it too. All dimmed into cool darkness and perfect poise.

He's not towering over Patton, and yet...

"Did I mention you said anything? I don't believe I said that," Janus reasons. "More importantly, whoever implied that honesty was tied to words alone?"

Patton does not have it in him for fancy riddles and witty comebacks. He has no jokes. The joke machine is out of order, try again.

Though he thinks he should. He really should have something to give, shouldn't he?

Like he always should. He's always there to lighten the mood. He's always there with cookies and hugs. He's always there for anyone and everyone else who needs it. Otherwise, what worth is he if he can't–

The thoughts buzz away, ringing in his ears, drowning out what little energy he might have had left. Patton breathes in, then out. "What do you want from me?"

Janus snaps to a stop, almost right in front of him. Patton stares at the black fabric of his cloak, the golden ties and silver clasps. He wonders how the cloth feels.

The bowler hat comes into view as Janus leans forward. A bit of bangs fall loose past his temple. What expression he wears, Patton cannot look too close. But Janus is looking up at him, trying to engage him.

"What I want..." and now Janus is speaking just as quietly, dare he say gently. Patton tries not to read too much into the tone even as his body shudders lightly with a longing he cannot put to words. "What I want, in this instance, is not nearly as interesting as what you want."

The confusion returns, but did it ever really leave? More riddles, great. "I'm sure you'll explain eventually."

And that gets what seems like a genuine smile to tug at the snake's lips. Janus rises up straight and takes a step forward in the same motion. "Try as you might to fit everything into nice little boxes, hardly anything is as one-sided as it appears. Take it from someone who knows, lies are useful and can be employed in so many different ways. It's a resource, a gamble perhaps, but an often lucrative one. I for one know its worth."

The words play ping-pong inside Pattons head, and a heaviness drags his shoulders down, down, until he could just lay on the floor–

And then suddenly there's the velvet rub of gloves against his jaw, and a careful nudge up of his chin.

"But what I don't condone is using deceitful means to enable self-harm."

A fist bulldozes its way through Patton's chest. It wrenches the muscles around his heart, constricting, sending ice to flood his veins. The pain guilt shame sensation stabbing it's way through his stomach and down his legs, dragging his soul along with it.

He finally meets that gaze and he would have staggered had he not already been leaning on the door. Janus is firm, any previous amusement gone in a flash. It pins him where he stands. Patton can't run away, can't glance away, can't breathe-

The gloved hand moves up his jaw and settles against his cheek. Another one joins on the other side. Janus is cupping his face, holding him there in front of him, like a puppet on a string. Patton feels weightless and terrified.

The firmness in those mismatched eyes melt into something else.

Compassion.

"The others may be fooled, and that's only because they're idiots. But you can't fool yourself, darling. And you certainly can't fool me."

Patton's tongue is dry against the roof of his mouth. All the thoughts of not being enough, of pushing himself a little farther, telling himself not to be weak– The thoughts wrestle with the warmth of a body close to his, and despite consciously deciding to, his hands seek purchase against black sleeves. If he can just hold on and keep his head– if he can just think of what he should do-

"It's alright," Janus shushes him. "I don't say this to frighten you. I simply wish to help."

"I don't need anything," Patton stammers, interrupting him and his own haywire brain patterns. "I'm sorry, um, if I made you think otherwise, or– or if I–

Another hand startles him into silence. Fingers card through his hair...lovingly. For all that Janus has six hands, he always keeps them to himself. He never shows others physical affection, as far as Patton is aware. Or any affection that isn't laced with sass and sarcasm. What happened... what did Patton do to garner this attention?

And when will Janus pull the rug out from under him?

"Honey."

And the world becomes paper-thin with a crooning pet name. Janus brushes his thumb in a sweet caress and Patton can't help but to lean into the touch.

"I just want you to listen to me for a moment," Janus whispers. "Just a moment, no arguments. Just you and I, and no one else to please. Afterwards, I can leave and we don't have to talk again about this, not if you don't want to. But you are not the only one who cares for others. And even if you are the only one who gets hurt in the end, it's still too much."

"Why do you care?" Patton croaks out. His voice is small, and hollow, and oh so hopeful. He's shaking now, he realizes dimly. His teeth wobble, near-chattering. The stresses have piled up and up and threaten to bury him. And he doesn't know whether it's better that way.

He should at least cry, right? Why can't he even do that right?

Janus's expression turns achingly sad. He pitches forward and rests their foreheads against each other. They are connected, and the ringing in Patton's ears stops. Instead, there's the thrum of tentative heartbeats.

"If I can't reach you otherwise, then perhaps some of the blame is mine." His breath fans out against Patton's skin and he closes his eyes. He feels adrift with nothing but a baritone voice tethering him in place. "Perhaps I let this go on too long. Perhaps I should have intervened sooner. And if I misjudged...then you have my most sincere apologies."

Patton's eyes flutter open and he leans back away from him, away from his touch. Janus let's him, surprisingly. His hold is not meant to bind him.

Janus attempts a sardonic smile. "Yes, even I sometimes think honesty is the best policy. You can rub it in my face later. Just don't tell the others, or else they'll get annoying. More annoying."

The hands leave his face and slide down his neck, past his shoulders, down to Patton's hands where he apparently had Janus's arms in a death-grip. Janus gently tugs them loose one by one, but he doesn't let go. He holds their hands together, squeezing them.

"It's alright to not be alright," Janus tells him. "You can have boundaries, and you can tell people when they cross then. You can say when you're tired and when you've just had enough. You don't have to keep collecting pebbles until it's a boulder breaking your back. You don't have to keep pushing yourself when you don't want to."

And somewhere, deep down underneath the coating numbness, Patton knows this is true. He knows it. And it's such a relief, to hear someone say it. To give him permission to acknowledge it.

However, the well is dried up. There are no tears. Just a quiet tiredness.

"You wouldn't want any of the others to hide their pain away, would you?"

Patton stares down at their linked hands. He never imagined he'd be holding hands with Deceit, or that it would be comforting. He shakes his head.

"You would want them to tell you when they were sad, or when they needed something, wouldn't you?"

Patton nods, barely sensing the motion.

"And if you saw me hurting, you would want to help me...wouldn't you?"

He glances back up. Janus is imploring and earnest, trying to lead Patton's eye to something important, to have him see what he has seen.

To take away the blindfold.

"Yes," Patton agrees. He would help Janus in a heartbeat.

"Then why are you not deserving of the same? Why deny yourself comforts and hide behind a farce of happiness when you have nothing to be ashamed of? When you know they wouldn't turn you away? Do you not trust them? Have they given you any reason not to trust them?"

"Of course not," Patton responds automatically, weakly. "Of course I trust them."

Roman, always chivalrous.

Virgil, always attentive.

Logan, always reasonable.

Remus, always open.

And Patton, always strong.

Did the others ever get tired of always being too?

Janus slips his hands away and Pattons arms hang limply, without purpose. "All I ask...is for you to think about it. Think about what you really want. And then think about why on Earth you can't have it."

There are many reasons.

He's told himself them over and over.

And he imagines the others telling themselves the same, and he can't bear it.

Janus takes one step back, then two. He turns to go, to slide into the shadows once more.

Patton lurches forward and snatches a hand. He cradles it in two of his, and when that isn't enough, he pulls it to his chest to hold it close.

If Janus shows surprise, Patton can't see it. He's got his eyes squnched up tight, unable to bear an onslaught of rejection even after the display Janus had given him, the urgency to show faith.

"Stay," Patton says, but the question is clear.

There's a hush, and Janus is incredibly still. Patton wants to know what his expression looks like, what he's thinking right now.

Baby steps.

"Is that really what you want, dearest?"

Patton hums and tugs on the hand, closer. He pulls Janus back to him, and in a fit of bravery, and let's go of the hand in favor of wrapping his arms around Janus's torso. He buries his face in the cloak, and he fights against all the nagging thoughts accusing him of being selfish.

"How can I say no to that answer?" Janus chuckles and, incredibly, starts to card his fingers through Patton's hair again.

"Gloves off?" Patton requests, then adds a shy, "Please?"

Another chuckle, one that Patton feels more than hears from the body that he's pressed up against.

"I thought they already were," Janus teases, and then, wonderfully, Patton feels bare skin threading through and scratching his scalp. It's grounding, and it's there, and it's for him.

And he won't feel guilty if it makes him happy.

[js-a-writer]

Tewksbury x fem!Reader I honestly dont mind if this is an angst oneshot, its completely up to you. If you want some more structure lmk and ill come up with some💜

Summary : *the request*

Warnings : just pure fluff

@nix-rose

*not proofread*

Tewksbury was taking a walk through the park he always go through, today he wasn't in any rush, as he had nothing iportnat he needed to do. He was sitting on a bench, just enjoying the scenery, when he noticed a girl, she had an easle in front of her and it appeared that she was painting something.

He saw other pieces of art scattered around her when he looked back at her, she quickly snapped her head back to the painting. He was curious but decided just to ignore it, seeing as he was a Lord now, and she might just be surprised so see him in the park around this time of day.

About an hour goes by, and Tewksbury noticed the girl staring at him more and more. She thought she was being sneeky, but much to her avail, she was not. He got suspicious, thinking 'what if she's going to kill me... maybe she's like the man in the brown bowler hat!' His suspicions were proved wrong when he snuck up behind the girl to see her painting him, sitting on the park bench.

She went to look over to the bench again, to see him not there. She looked at her surroundings, trying to find the young lord. Her long hair flowingas she did so. Tewksbury took notice of this and the way her face contorted into one of frustration and confusion as her eyes kept searching for him.

He hid behind he easle as she stood up to see if maybe he was coming back. But when she saw nothing, she sat back down and looked up to her easle, flinching and falling backwards off of her stool, as she screamed out in shock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just curious as to what you were painting." he said in a calming tone, trying to seem less intimidating. He truly didn't mean to scare her he just wanted to see how far she would go to find him again.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault honestly." she spoke softly, almost like a whisper, as he saw her cheeks heat up in embarrasment. "Don't be embarrassed, it looks really good, it's almost like staringat a refelction of myself." he spoke trying to reassure her everything was fine.

"It's not finshed, I haven't finished the face." she said softly. Tewksbury could see the panic fade from her features but saw it twist up into somthing he though tto be sadness? HE couldn't make her sad, not on their first encounter. He wanted to see eachother more, and if he made her sad there was no way she would want to see him again.

So he ran, all the way back to the bench he had previouslybeen sitting at, in the same position he was sat in just before he had terrifieed the poor girl. "What are you doing?" sh easked curious as to why he would run all the way over there and pose the same. "Letting you finish your painting, you said you didn't finish the face, so finish it. You can't leave a portrait undone now can you?" he told her, wantnig to make her happy again.

So she did, she finsihed the painting, only about 25 minutes later, she was finally done and called him over. "So, what do you think?" she asked quite giddily he noticed. "It's wonderful, I must have this hung up in my castle, if I can take it." he sent a quizical look her way. "I think I quite like this one, maybe I want to keep it..... I'm only joking ofcourse you can have it." she said teasing him. "Great, how much do I owe you for it?" he asked ready to pay full of whatever price you named. "It's free, you can have it. It is a painting of you ofcourse, and I didn't really ask befoe starting it." she told him. "Nonsense, I must pay you.... Well atleast let me take you somewhere, I would like to spend more time with you if you would like that too?" he said when she shook her head, as to say, 'you don't have to pay for it'.

Sh eofcourse said yes, and he helped pack up her painting supplies so they could go somehwre else, somewhere more private. They ended up going to a meadow and her drawing more sketches of him and the field, as he wathed her with admiration in his eyes. They asked questions about eachother trying to learn different things about one another.

"Well I live in a cottage with my mother,, we live right down that pathway," she stated as she pointed to a pathway leading out of the meadow. "we're not very rich, but we make the most of it. It's just my mother and I, it always has been, and she works at the bakery she owns in town."

A few minutes go by and she stops talking to draw the daisies in the field again, as he once again admires her and her beauty. "Can I see your sketch book?" he asked. She handed it to him, he flips through the pages seeing pictures of him from today, and scenery from all over London. He was astonished. He saw mor epictures of things like flowers, and what he guessed was her mother.

"These are extraordinary, you have to publish these somewhere.You could make a fortune off of these." he suggested fasinated by her artwork. "They're not that good. I probably wouldn't sell anything, and even if I did, I have no where to sell and no way to get the word out." she tried dissmissing the suggestion convinsing herslef it would never work.

"You could sell them in the park, I could help. Not with the painting ofcourse but everything else." she obliged sayikng sh ecould try in a few days.

He looked at her again, admiring her beauty and everything else about her. He thought of how much he liked her, possibly even loved her! That couldn't be he's only known her but less than 24 hours, but it feels right, he loves her!

Meanwhile she thinks about how she's gotten to know more about him these past few hours,she had a feeling towards him but she couldn't quite label it just yet. They were both admiring eachother for a few moments longer before he blurted out, "Can I kiss you?" in the softest most love-sick tone he could have mustered.

He hesitated before going to appologise. But before he could she responded, not with words but with a chaste kiss, full of love and admiration. That's what that feeling love, she finally figured out what it was, it was love!

"I love you!" they both said in unison, giggling and sealing it with another kiss, more passionate this time. Knowing how they both had felt.

I guess you could say, this was love at first sight.

Thank you so kuch for this request @nix-rose I loved writing it and hope you love it just as kuch as I do.

Make sure to keep leaving requests and voting on polls. ⤵️

[finniestoncrane]

hello finnie i am very kindly asking for kissing as a distraction with btas edward thank you

Take A Break

BTAS!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 650 i am being so brave right now because this is the first thing i've properly written for this absolute sweetheart SO I HOPE IT'S OK!! 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: really just fluff, and some kissing, and a tiny bit of teasing

Eddie removed his deep green bowler hat and tossed it to the side, letting his gloved fingers run through his soft, red hair. Leaning back on the chair he let out a deep exhale, staring, unblinking, at the screen in front of him. The screeds of code, line upon line, made your head hurt to look at, and you could tell he was getting the same way. As he dragged his hands down his face, he settled one on his chin, scratching at it as he looked at the monitors.

Coming from behind him, you draped your arms around his shoulders, laying your palms flat on his chest and feeling him lean further back into you. He tilted his head up and offered you a weak smile.

“Please, my dear. No distractions. If I’m to finish this project on time, then I need to reserve all of my focus for it.”

Not one to take no for an answer, you sighed dramatically as you circled him, perching on the desk between him and the screens. Avoiding any eye contact, you brushed at the lapels of his suit jacket, straightening them out and smoothing them down as you used the pretence to make lingering physical contact with him. He watched you intensely, savouring each soft brush of your fingers against him, biting the inside of his cheek in a bid to keep himself from losing focus on what was important.

But he could feel himself coming undone regardless as he watched your fingertips take hold of the end of his tie, untucking it from his buttoned jacket and playing with it as you leaned closer. You ran the toe of your shoe up the front of his leg, a slight movement, almost imperceptible but outrageously flirtatious nonetheless. That kind of understated, almost innocent kind of teasing drove him wild, and you could tell it was working now. His cheeks flushed a soft pink and his eyes lingered on your hands.

Just as quickly as you had him under your spell, however, he shook himself out of it, placing his hands over yours and pushing them away gently. He cupped them for a moment longer, smiling warmly, if not exasperated.

“My sweet, I appreciate the sentiments, but I really must get this finished.”

Shuffling past you, he tucked himself back under the desk, continuing to type out the code for his videogame, furrowing his brow and closing his eyes tight each time a wave of pain from the developing headache crossed him.

“You’re a stubborn man, Mister Nygma.”

He chuckled softly, neither confirming nor denying it. You stood up from the desk and let your hand find his face, caressing it softly as you walked behind him again. Leaning into his ear, you spoke quieter.

“And you’re very lucky that you’re so adorable.”

A soft kiss was placed on his cheek, before you moved to the other side of his head.

“Otherwise, I might not put up with you.”

Another kiss on this cheek now, lingering longer as you let your hands fall down his front once more, slowly toying with the buttons on his shirt before loosening one completely. At your insistence, Eddie finally got up from his seat, turning to you, grabbing your elbows and pulling you into an embrace as his lips found yours.

He held you to him, warm and firm, as he let a soft sigh out against your mouth, his hand reaching to the back of your head to keep you still, not wanting you to pull away before he was satisfied. As soon as he eased off you moved back, taking in a deep breath and watching a smile curl up on the corners of his mouth.

“Perhaps a distraction was necessary.”

“Hm… has it cured your headache?”

“Not completely, but I think I know what would.”

A mischievous grin brought out your own smile as he took your hand and led you out of the room.